


Gunner Girl Kiwa

by Pastel Comma (Regina_Hark)



Series: Gunners vs Slimes [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe- Fantasy, Belly Expansion, Breast Expansion, Breast Fucking, Consentacles, Delicious Flat Chest, Eggpreg, Explicit Sexual Content, Female Character of Color, Gun Kink, Impregnation, Inanimate Object Porn, Interspecies Sex, Milking, Monster sex, Monsters- Slimes, Object Insertion, Object Penetration, Other, Oviposition, PWP, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:10:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6914113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regina_Hark/pseuds/Pastel%20Comma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a job in the mine goes south, Kiwa Ato isn't expecting anyone to give her a hand. But luckily, the slimes of Whitstone Mine know a thing or two about tending to lovely damp holes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Open Season for Half-Cocked Asses

**Author's Note:**

> A bit more world-building to go with the porn this time. 
> 
> I'm trying something different. A three-chapter format focusing on a different kink. 
> 
> This chapter: World-building and general set-up.  
> Next chapter: Gun porn. Associated kinks: Light Bondage. Gun Porn Object Insertion/Penetration. Light Belly Expansion  
> Last chapter: Slimes and tentacles. Associated kinks: Blow-job. Breast Expansion. Tit-fuck/Breast-fucking. Monster Orgy. Ovipostion/Egg-Preg. Impregnation. 
> 
> You can pick which one you want or just read it all together. On literotica and tumblr, I'm probably going to split it into three separate submissions. This way I don't have to worry about diluting a story by focusing on too many kinks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four words a freelancer like herself never wanted to say: The job was rigged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No porn in this chapter. Just the general set-up. 
> 
> I think I might post a Gunners Vs Slimes story every other Wednesday but don't hold me on that. They take a little longer than the average than the Academy Girl short or extend.

Beyond all things, beyond all sounds -the shouts, the screams, the chaos and yes, the thunderous roar of the mine collapsing on all, herself included- Kiwa longed for a particular silence. Odd she knew. To think of silence now while she ran, blazing across the mine-shaft's tipping wooden ramparts. The ceilings themselves surging after her.

And yet her thoughts wandered, delirious, desperate.

Kiwa darted along, her legs jutting up and over like broken stilts. She forced herself to keep on going, lungs on the verge of popping from the strain. There was so much to jump over. Swords. Shields. Idiots that gave up and just waited to die. They curled up in a little ball, dotting the passageways with their exhausted forms. As if their backs could protected them from the shit-ton of soil and rock and death just wanting to something human to add to the monstrous pile.

And every time she saw them, god, it felt like she was getting slower. Gotta keep moving.

Kiwa kept up the pace, watching through the scattered metal railings for anything she needed to keep an eye.

Not much help it was. Everything was falling.

The mine's interior walls groaned and slid downwards. Mudslides came and went, knocking down other freelancers and adventurers alike ahead of her. Their screams came and went. Kiwa tried not to focus on that. She ran faster, forcing herself to her limit. Muscles ached, threatening to tear. Her feet swelled, her soles blisteringly hot. Up and up, around and around, the mine's tunnels went in circles and no matter how many rings Kiwa passed, the pillars holding them up kept on sinking. No closer to the surface than when she started.

There had been others with her.

A slow-ass mage and a heavy knight who bitched at her to slow down. Like they were in a party or some shit. She didn’t know them. They didn’t know her. And they were gone now. No names. No proof that they’d been with her at all. Only Kiwa was left running on this tunnel track, watching others ahead of her on the opposite side. Those up there didn’t know about her. Too busy looking ahead.

At least she gave the ones who were with her a chance. She looked back. Those further up certainly didn’t.

Kiwa’s mind strayed again. Longing for it. Silence. Her life was defined by it. That wondrous silence. Mental images followed, familiar and faint. Red runny sunsets falling over Flown, the capital city. Her rushing through the narrow streets, pockets freshly flush with coin. Blue bashful sunrises rising over cramp inn rooms. Her rubbing her last dollar, wondering how she planned to eat for the next two weeks.

Sometimes, a silence would prelude her rage. A sharp intake of air before she snapped, grabbing the neck of the game commissioner after receiving under pay. Sometimes, a silence would conclude her homesickness. A roll of an glass between her fingertips, cheap alcohol wet on her swollen lips.

No time for that now. She had to stay focused.

Unlike a ranger who ran forward to noise, bow ready, Kiwa fled and fired, gun cocked. One shot. Two. Her bullets flew through the air and hit, plunging through the unfortunate monsters that refused to get out of her way. Typical cavern fare; rats, bats and slithering things that oughta have known better than to stay in a human-occupied hole. One thump. Two. No silence to be found.

The mine was still falling, drowning, as quakes came from its very core.

Tuning out the noises and disturbances didn't help.

Her body was louder than all of them. Even the mine falling around her ears couldn't compare. Kiwa heard her lungs shrivel, the mine dust, fog-like and thick like soup, coated the air with coal and sulfur. Then her heart. The rapid pistol-fast thumping reaching higher and higher.

Kiwa's black hair swayed, bangs sticking to her forehead as she sweated. Merciless was the dust, covering her from head to toe in bone-white ash and blackened soil. Brown skin barely visible. What she looked like to the people she passed? Less human. More of a ghost, a phantom, pale and relentless.

The staccato steps of her thigh-high black boots carried on. They clattered along the creaky crooked boards. Their own sounds, the soft leather bending and bustling from each frantic foot forward.

The sensation ran up Kiwa's lanky legs. Vibrations spreading from her boots, green leggings and then to the bare expanse of dark tanned skin that separated her leggings from her mini-shorts. Sweat ran down her body in clear rivets despite what little she was wearing. Light gear. Black mini-shorts. Three gun holsters, two hanging around her hips and the third on her back. And her favorite black tub top across her front, white wrappings underneath to cover her torso for modesty's sake.

Not that there was much for modesty to cover.

Hailing from the Western Isles, aka the greatest gathering of pipsqueaks everywhere, Kiwa was already lacking in the height department. Even the runts from Flown were two heads taller than her. But puberty decided to skip her for the last decade. She was flatter than a sidewalk and then some. Her toned lean hips might catch some eyes but she didn't have a thick ass to match. Spending a lot of time on her knees and crouching behind cover took care of that. Twenty-four and on the top of her game as a freelancer, how Kiwa looked didn't matter much when she had a gun in her hand.

Shit. Kiwa jerked on the trigger and pulled again, bracing herself for the recoil and flash to come. But, ha. Nothing but stale gray smoke came out the end of the barrel.

She was out and that meant, she was fucked.

Kiwa sucked in a breath. Sweaty palms messed with her grip. Running wasn't doing her any favors either. And slowing down, hmm, she wasn't ready to die on her feet just yet. Her gray eyes clinching and blinking out the dust and dirt raining from everywhere.

A gunner always has bullets. A gunner always has back-ups.

But this cheap snapback revolver wasn't meant to be anything but a flashy showpiece. Junk she brought it along because she hadn't foreseen the massive shit pile that she would be getting herself in.

Four words a freelancer like herself never wanted to say: The job was rigged.

Kiwa fought with her own jittery fingers, the sort you find on a skittish tough-nuts newbie, to reload the chamber.

Bullets clattered around her unsteady feet and rolled out of sight. She wanted to close her eyes, force out that noise of her hard-earned profit-makers she was leaving behind. Bullets weren’t cheap. Maintenance weren’t cheap. Staying alive? Spirits, it would be cheaper to die! But all the little dots lined up. The unusually high pay. The provided travel to the location. Red unruly zeros cascaded down from her mental bullshit bank account.

There was no denying it. Fuck!

Waves of dirt and stone and rock swept by as if to push Kiwa right over into the lower levels. An ocean of dirt and stone and rock, oil and metal and heat. This earth-born sea crunched and consumed the mining equipment and instruments left behind, hungry and roaring for more. The combined stench of burning flesh and death, human and monster, gloated in the air.

In that moment of casual destruction, plain and simple, Kiwa saw how she would die.

With each blink, her mind supplied images. A wave of dirt would do her in, and if it didn't, the tunnel would collapse and if that didn't do the job, some flying shrapnel would get her from behind. Kiwa smiled, eyes empty as her whole body trembled. How scary! Her mind cried. How absolutely- Then she forgot. Distracted. Because shit, a single bullet costs fifteen aulrians. Holy fuck! Could a civie even comprehend how much she had to pay for a whole magazine's worth?!

Kiwa swept left, her shoulder ached. Her palm met blood and she gritted her teeth. Spirits, she better die here or she’d rise a unholy ruckus up at the Freelance Hall!

The job was unsalvageable.

Four words a freelancer like herself never wanted to admit. A complete waste of time and money. So much money. And that meant so many terrible things. Sleeping on the road. Being terrorized by bandits. Panhandling for just a little pocket change so she could eat a damned meal or buy bullets to get back to work. Then dealing with cheapskate civilians. Goddamned civies looking down at her and of course, the worse of them all, accepting shrimpy handouts from holier-than-thou guilds.

Assholes.

Just the thought of guilds and becoming their wage slave bitch again... Kiwa's face curdled.

This was the sort of shit the guilds loved to pull all of the time. How could she have not noticed!

Place a notice about some pillaged or derelict place. Add a sob story here and there. Promise gold all up the wazoo that they never planned to deliver. They'll lie about the monster types and area condition. Like fuck, what was wrong about warning people about the slight chance of mine cave-in! Up the standard application fee and just sit back and watch as suckers played into their greedy little hands. Whoever died would be out of their hair. Less competition. And whoever lived couldn’t afford to not accept their shitty offer of ‘working together’.

As a goddamned high-ranked gunner, Kiwa thought she graduated from this bullshit.

And there was no way she couldn't pretend that this job wasn't a trap designed to reel her in. Gunners and mines were like flies and honey. Mines meant straight lanes and big spaces, perfect for shooting down flying beasts. You know, the kind of monsters gunner favored. Not to mention, the place was full of stupid adventurers, the type Kiwa loved to bump shoulders with. New enough that they still had money and savings but dumb enough that she could talk them into being her meat shields.

Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if some of those newbies were plants.

Kiwa bragged all night, drinking herself into a frenzy. And the next morning after, at her so-called friends urging, wasted the last of her savings on a grand glorious gun that so, so wasn't worth it.

She was now dirt-poor without an ally in sight.

And this gun, fuck this gun. All of em. She shoulda stayed on the islands.

Fuck Flown.

Fuck the guilds.

Fuck everybody.

Already out of breath, Kiwa ran and weaved through the spiraling passages. Emerging along the mine-shaft’s upper ramparts, sunlight glinting in the distance, her stomach dropped at the sight. There they went, the freelancers, the new warriors and the adventurers. Those with guilds threw down honing stones, teleporting elsewhere. Those without shattered their statuette of the local deity, likely to return to a shine or church depending on how much they paid.

The rest ran. Didn’t make it far. The waves washed over and that was all Kiwa was going to say about that.

She considered leaping. Get closer to the entrance by making a dash to the catwalk that looked almost stable.

Fuck, she wouldn't survive the fall. Plan I-don't-want-to-die, go!

Kiwa sprinted over to the bridge, her gait unsteady and slowing. Between gasping and the sweat dropping down between her eyes, Kiwa longed for-

In a blink, she saw it. Heard it. The silence she yearned for.

First came the snap from the bridge's ropes. Then the fall. Kiwa was launched off to the side, legs stupidly still running, into darkness. Silence came briefly. Noiseless and wonderful and then Kiwa hit her head a jagged cliff and passed out, relieved. Falling. Gone.

Thank god she wouldn't be awake when the mine smashed her into itty-bitty pieces.


	2. Happiness is a Warm Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiwa thought about that barrel, that thick shaft working her body and her mouth opened before she could think it though.
> 
> “But if you wanna like-” she said through red cheeks, “fuck me in it. I'd be okay with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gun porn chapter.

So the gun, great investment.

Kiwa opened her eyes, dirt flaking off her eyelashes and forehead as she slowly came to. The gunner lifted her head, skull still throbbing from the impact of the cave-in and the thunderous roar echoing endlessly in the distance. Only a few ladders remained, miles out of reach, jagged and crooked along broken wooden ramparts and crumbing mine pillars.

But much of the damage the cave-in could do was over.

Everything that had been built in the middle; the catwalks, the bridges, the suspended mining equipment and furnaces, they'd been torn down. Dropped right into a deeper abyss. Everything on the sides however, they'd been shuffled ten or twenty yards down from where they once were. Mud and muck coating everything that the dust and ash missed. Any stable tunnels left had to have been packed. Passageways filled. No point in using the man-made methods to get out now. All that was left to do was climb.

Kiwa warmed under the golden rays touching her sore body. Low sunny light beamed down from the single, lone opening above. The entrance to the mine had fallen in, not surprising, and with it made a great gaping hole that was absolutely breathtaking. From that hole, she saw the clear blue sky, the rescue crews gathering and Flown's tallest tower, its white stone glimmering in the morning sun.

In a bit of a reverie, Kiwa enjoyed the view.

Happy to stare and stare, gratitude and gratefulness of, well, just being alive filling her core. Right up until she remembered that she still had to climb all that dirt and rock if she ever wanted to catch a rescue crew's attention. After all, they were probably guild-owned bitches. They'll leave people behind so monsters could eat and toughen up.

Yup, she was getting her shitty attitude back. Thank the spirits!

Kiwa glanced down, found herself hanging from the underside of a broken ladder. All her limbs still intact. Nice. She quickly patted the parts she could reach, checking herself for any major wounds. A couple of open cuts. A purple-ling knee. And bruises galore. She looked like she laid in the road and let a herd of cows and cattle dance and strut their fat asses right over her.

Thank goodness, they had potions for this.

Not wasting time, she dug through her nearest pocket and used one of her spares. Bitter and lime-green, she gulped it down. The effect was instantaneous. Green light glowed from Kiwa's light-brown skin, magically stitching together the wounds and healing the bruises. It didn't do a thing for her knee, though. Needed a specialty potion for ligaments and muscle. One of those red ones she'd been to cheap to buy.

Whelp, as long as she didn't lean on it much, she'd be fine.

Now to deal with the bigger issue. How would she get down? Kiwa stared a little. It didn't look easy.

Kiwa's over-the-shoulder gun holster dangled from a crooked, hook-like bar. The bent bar didn't seem like much and yet it was strong enough to hold her small frame and a gun that was three times bigger than her size. Horizontally, anyways.

Rune Matchsticks were all about spray-damage and long-distance fire. They were long and erect weapons, trading accuracy for shell count and range. Generally useless in Kiwa's line of work. Gunners like herself couldn't afford to be spending so much on shells. Besides, dragging around this tyrant was already taking a toll on her body. Grenadiers, maybe. Glphygear users, probably.

At least, the gun was pretty.

But besides all of that, it was fine. Well, he was fine. Kiwa had a habit of using male pronouns for her guns. Made them easier to get used to.

He, the Rune Matchstick order 88, otherwise known as RM-88, was alright. Dust coated his ass, graying up his long silver barrel and the twin mini-guns that sat below his shaft. Slowly growing warm from the sunlight and the tight space between her legs, his metal made a pleasant heat against her lower hips. A place where he shouldn't be if the gun holster worked probably.

But that was her fault by observing tradition where it didn't counted.

Gun models like RM-88, a combination of terrain-mobile shell-guzzlers and heavy artillery, were often pointed to the floor as a curtsy when not in use. Before the whole mine job went to shit, she should have taken RM-88 out. Let him have a chance to strut his stuff before writing him off the same as she did her revolver. Nothing but a flashy showpiece for the adventurers and her fake friends to fawn over. Like they knew a damn thing about guns.

Now he swung between her legs like a cock.The tip glinting bright like it already fired and was prime to fire again. Kiwa rotated her hips slowly, trying to readjust him and boy, the gun didn't like that. Using her ass as a counterweight, RM-88 canted straight up between her hips, his big steel shaft flush against her inner thighs and flatly pressed into her shorts.

Kiwa's breath hitched, surprised by the erotic flat slap he made against her privates.

A sensation so good it made her pause. Then she was surprised again by how she deliberately bucked her hips. Making him do it again. Kiwa took a sharp intake of air. Still good. Enthralling, even. The slap. The gun between her legs. Not a fluke, it seemed. That brief bit of pleasure. The sound of the slap bounced off the nearby walls and dirt mounds. Shit, it sounded almost like the real thing. Fleshy. Filthy. A meaty cock full of girth and power.

Hell, RM-88 might be better than the real thing. He didn't need anytime to recover between loads.

He was so long and thick that he easily cocked open her legs. His great shaft not just rubbing up against her pussy and sensitive thighs but also her rear-end and slim cheeks. In just one shallow thrust, he had her. All of her.

Kiwa's lips fell open, a half-smothered murmur echoed to her ears. It took her a second to recognize her own voice. Sweet and low and all sorts of breathy. Already turned on and ready to play. Her ass-cheeks parted on the warm metal, skin glistening and dripping with dewy perspiration. The sweat drops made it easy for her hump, the friction slowly becoming smooth and swift.

She tried to think of a thousand professional reason why she was more or less giving a thigh-job to an cock-like gun but couldn't think of any that didn't involve casual horniness.

And for the record, Kiwa didn't usually ride her guns.

This was a special situation that required special care. And if she got an orgasm or two out of the deal, who'd blame her?

The holster, jostled from her actions, reasserted itself on her poor shoulders.

The straps already been tangled, how else could it hang from the ladder, but now it sagged further down her back. Runing the fragile balance she was working with. Kiwa twisted to catch it but it was too late. Clawing all the while, the straps fell off her her shoulders and looped around her lower arms. Red angry lines marked up her brown skin under the dark green cords. Tugged backwards, Kiwa's arms were tied together and bent back.

Gripped into place, she struggled and kicked but there was little Kiwa could do without outright dislocating her arms to escape. Her forearms ached a bit. But there wasn't much she could do about that now. Finding the holster latches was the only way out of this and that was going to be hard without the range she once had with her arms

Using her bound hands, Kiwa groped blindly for the latches to free RM-88 from the holster. Her fingers wandered the steel girth of the gun. Brushing up against the hilt marks lining the ridged barrel, each notch bumpy and fat.

Her fingertips slid along the steel, stroking the metal surface as she struggled.

Every notch she touched, hard and rigid, Kiwa licked her lips. Amused by how kinky her actions were becoming. In a certain light, a gun was rather phallic. Angular. Hard. Ready to blow at a single touch. Kiwa was still looking for the latches. Looking hard as she stroked the thick barrel and rocked her hips back. But it was becoming apparent that they were on the other side of the gun.

If she could tilt the holster straps under the gun just right, she could unlatch it that way. But that would require a little more finesse that what she was doing already. Time to take up a step.

The RM-88 bobbed between Kiwa's lower hips, canting up in a jerky, clumsy motion.

Kiwa panted softly, feeling the front of her mini-shorts grow damp from the sweet stimulation. The thong she was wearing wasn't meant to absorb as much female arousal as she was making. Her sweet juices seeped through, staining the seat and lubed the shaft.

The smell of her sex was in the air, heedy and fertile, it overtook the lingering odor of oil and metal.

Her legs swayed along. Thighs parting as the sight scope on the lower end of the gun pushed upwards. With each bob, the scope pushed itself in, rising up and higher. Kiwa gasped, her hips shuddering at the intrusive touch. RM-88 touched her plain and simple, the sight scope crashing and caressing against her lower lips. The surrounding ridges around the scope, the branding of the gun's model, hooked against her shorts' zipper.

Kiwa tried to stop her motion but it was too late.

The ridges and the sight scope caught onto the zipper's tab. Kiwa rotated her hips to the left, trying to knock the entanglement loose. The sight scope held fast, yanking down the zipper's teeth and exposed her paler skin, unmarred by the tan she gained scouting as a gunner on the field. Brown skin met lighter skin, tan-lines dividing her upper thighs and waist in pale tawny streaks.

Her panties, a black thong, was displayed, bared to her lust-filled eyes. At any other time, this would have been an annoyance. But Kiwa reveled in the sound and the teasing way her mini-shorts gave in. Soaked, her thong clung to her pussy, growing more and more transparent as Kiwa switched into bucking.

RM-88's janky thrusts became vicious, pounding and slapping against her.

Her thighs reddened. Light bruises decorated her hips. Her ass, taking most of the force, bobbed behind her, flesh trembling under the onslaught. Uselessly, her feet thrashed in the air. Twitching and sensually-tortured as she rode her gun-steed.

“Oh fuck,” She huffed, considering her options. “Fuck it all. I didn't ask to be here.”

If Kiwa's kept her actions up, she would definitely wind up cumming on her gun. And as pretty RM-88 was, she did have to think about the re-selling issue. He was a liability and the job was a bust. Girl has to eat somehow. Maybe if she re-arranged her arms, she could stop the scope from gaining any more ground.

The strap around the gun was sliding down. Slowly but surely. Kiwa could outright unlatch the holster with a single good shake.

But RM-88 was finally at the right angle where her shoulders didn't hurt. Her arms were still bound, the straps firmly pressing in but it gave a pleasant ache to her arms. Hell, there was even something fun in being tied up like this. Restrained, she had little movement. Her arms twitched and throbbed, flailing uselessly against their hold. Sure, her legs were free but as short as she was, they couldn't reach any foot-hold that she could relax her body against.

Staying still was an option. A dumb one.

Her gun would keep on working her privates whether she intervened or not. Angled up because of her position on the lower end of the barrel. Her ass the perfect counterweight to keep it working her pussy. Her mini-shorts only a thin barrier, Kiwa mapped every notch and ridge RM-88 had to spare. Her drenched and needy little hole clinching and squeezing to drive more jolts of hot thrilling buzz to her core.

If RM-88 had been a real cock, there would be no question about it.

She'd spread her legs and bend right over. Might even fall right on it if he took too long putting it in. Kiwa slumped forward, her body shivering and shaking from the frenzy of pleasure roused from RM-88. It had been a while since she enjoyed herself. Too busy working job requests and refining her gun-craft skills.

The back of her mini-shorts bunched under her hips, tugging and stretching the fabric as it gathered under her ass. Her thong, vulnerable and displayed in the open air, was besieged by the sight scope. Its tip brushed plainly against her skimpy strip of a panty, the metal prodding her swollen clit and folds.

Kiwa shivered in anticipation, the hum of her impending orgasm growing closer and closer in the back of her mind. She tightened her legs, encouraged the gun to piston faster  between them. Her voice became louder. Moans ran free, a harmony of want and need. With another swing of her hips, the thong was pushed aside. Kiwa hesitated then, leaning forward while keeping her eager entrance from touching the steel shaft.

What was she doing?

Getting her freak on because of the need to have 'I'm lucky I'm still alive' sex. kicking in? That had to be what was happening. This was her gun. A simple weapon she'd paid a good four hundred aulrians for. Not a dildo to be grinding her silly ass on. He wished that she would treat him so well.

Then again, she did pay for it. Kiwa was free to use it in anyway she liked. The gun worked better as a cock anyways.

Like nature intended, her clit met shaft. Big metal shaft to be exact. Kiwa erupted into breathy, heavy cries. Hearing herself now, blatant and crude, it fueled her carnal desire. The gun was teasing her, getting her all hot and ready. She wanted something hard and erect in her and she wanted it now. Kiwa's hips picked up speed, RM-88 now slicker and thickly lubed as her essence ran down the barrel.

Squelches and squishing noise met her ears, making the tips burn as the sound echoed around the formerly quiet mine.

Engorged, her hot-red clit greeted and fucked every bumpy nub it could reach. Kiwa's pussy rubbed against the sight scope, trying to somehow get the tip inside. But circular and wide as it was, it couldn't make it pass her folds. Kiwa grunted in distaste, bucking her hips in every which was she could get the scope inside. But all her struggling was for naught.

The holster's straps slacked from their hold on her shoulders and fell to her palms. She was just about freed. Kiwa huffed, clamped her hips around the gun to keep it where it belong.

She wasn't finished. Not yet.

Pleasure spread like sticky honey, inescapable and all-consuming and sweet to take in.

Before she came, Kiwa's mind went blank. She was a thing of sensation and ecstasy. Kiwa wasn't a loud lover. Not before this. She screamed as she cummed, the sound a cry of absolute bliss. From her hips, to her thighs, to her legs, feet curling inside her boots, to pulsing veins and everything else, a indescribable intensity ricocheted through her love-battered frame.

For thirty twitchy seconds, Kiwa was gone. Silent other than the sound of her deep breaths spilling into the air as she gulped desperately for oxygen.

With a final unconscious jerk of her hips, the holster unclasped and RM-88 dropped, saturated in her sweet juices.

Kiwa followed right after, meeting the ground in a reflex-aided tuck and roll. Her knee flared and she winced, groaning at the sudden pain following her climax. She managed a few wobbly steps and collapsed, her legs as limp as noodles.

She laid on her belly, afterglow already on its way.

But Kiwa wasn't particularly happy with how things ended. Her pussy throbbed, wanting something in it and Kiwa wasn't going to use her fingers to sate it. Kiwa decided to pay attention to something else. The wet sensation of her thong and mini-shorts was getting on her nerves so she lowered them, baring her lean ass and glistening pussy to the mine space.

If anyone had anything to say about her bottom nakedness, rescue crews or otherwise, she'll call them a pervert and that would be the end of that. The sunlight felt good on her bottom, drying the juices that were there.

Kiwa could have gone straight to sleep. Almost did if it wasn't for that gentle metal nudge to her soft tush.

Startled, she turned her head and gawked at what she saw. RM-88 moved. Somehow, he dragged himself over to her and was swiping softly at her wet hole. Kiwa looked behind him, trying to spot another person or a bit of magic that made him move. No. It was just him. Shinier and glossy in her lewd essence, he glimmered in the light.

“Stop.” She said, frowning. Guns weren't supposed to be able to up and move on their own. Not without their gunner's permission of course. And she hadn't mastered the associated gun-craft for it anyways. So this was weird. Stupid weird even.

RM-88 obeyed. He rested his large shaft on the middle of her back. The barrel pulsating, no, vibrating, on the inside. Kiwa gave him another glance, slower this time. He did look more shinier. The texture of her sweet juices seemed different in the light also.

“Whatever you are,” Kiwa stated, bored, “you do know you can't kill a gunner with their own gun?”

RM-88 or whoever was using the gun didn't respond.

“It's common knowledge, dumbass. I slapped my seal on that Rune Matchstick the moment I got it. The bullets won't kill me. The metal won't smash me to death. I don't even need to be physically touching the trigger to make it fire. So you better think again about attacking me.”

RM-88 only vibrated. Waiting for her next word, she guessed.

Okay. No hostile intent then.

Kiwa thought about that barrel, that thick shaft working her body and her mouth opened before she could think it though.

“But if you wanna like-” she said through red cheeks, “fuck me in it. I'd be okay with that.”

RM-88 apparently liked the sound of that. He went to work, stroking her pussy folds with the rim of the barrel. Kiwa exhaled in a huff, spreading her legs further as she leaned on her arms. She pushed her hips up, pressing her pussy and ass for his full inspection. The gun rubbed between all her trim curves, sliding between her lean ass-cheeks and lower lips at a frustratingly slow speed.

“I said fuck,” she stuttered, “not fool around with my-” RM-88 pushed hard against her hole, stretching out the inner muscle. Her hips writhed, pushing back for more. His barrel rim played with her entrance, the metal slurping against her wet folds and nudging her tender flesh into parting for his great length.

Kiwa squealed, the noise exploding out of her. She tried to cover her mouth. Shut that nonsense down. That whole thing earlier with her shouting her lungs out was a fluke. The way she was acting now, frantic and needy, needed to stop.

This wasn't her first time receiving a good time between her legs but spirits, it felt better than all of them.

With no actual tongue or fingers, RM-88 was a damn savant at eating her out.

Unable to concentrate to keep her hands steady, Kiwa's voice slipped through. In bits and spurts, her horny howls escaped. What didn't come out as a poorly-stilted cry was saliva, drooling free down her swollen lips.

Kiwa looked over her shoulder, unbelievably turned on by that damn big gun working her pussy. Fun stuff but not was she wanted. Kiwa pushed back, trapping that glorious gun-cock between her hips. He struggled lightly, his barrel not exactly lined up with her hole but she could work with that. She pressed against his rounded ridges, reeling each curve and bump slide against her entrance.

“You do know who's in control of this show, right?” she purred, squeezing her thighs even more. RM-88 vibrated harder, tremors running up and down his steel form. “Look who likes that. Such a good, good gun you are.” The gun slid back, his upper end and the rim of the barrel now in fucking range. “You can put it in now. Your owner is feeling generous today.”

The tip of the barrel touched her hole and she felt some of her sweet juice run inside. Kiwa closer her eyes, bracing herself for what had to be the first thrust in. The tip swiped against her clit instead, coaxing out more of her sweet juices then went right back to it, sliding through her cheeks.

Kiwa growled, wrapping her thighs on the barrel and tried to keep it in place.

“What do you think you're doing?”

His half-cocked ass didn't answer. RM-88 slipped out of her hold with an audible pop. She moved to turn on her back, catch him again but his thick shaft, all of its annoying weight fell right on her. Kiwa grunted, wiggling underneath him. The gun couldn't hurt in any meaningful ways. That's what the gunner's seal was for. Preventing their augmented weapons from being stolen or used on them.

But it was a real bitch to get out of when the gun in question was the size of Rune Matchstick.

Kiwa thrashed underneath him, short of breath and pissed. RM-88 waited, watching as her struggles grew half-hearted and weak.

“You're a real dick, did you know that?” she huffed. “There are plenty of men in Flown that wouldn't have wasted a second in getting inside of me. I'm going to sell your ass right after this. Watch me.”

She slumped once the bulk of her energy left. Flipped him off with the last of it.

RM-88, the cock-tease, went back to it with gusto. Sliding in and out of her trembling cheeks and lower lips, smearing her slender backside with her own sweat and lewd essence. At times, his rim pushed directly against her hole. And she could have sworn she heard something like drinking from inside it.

Spirits, she didn't even feel like his owner anymore. They switched places. He was the gunner and she was his newest toy. Spirits, if anyone caught them- The consequences would be- Spirits, who cared?!

Fuck guns.

Fuck guilds.

Fuck everybody.

Just because what she was doing was immoral behavior, cavorting with an abomination in a sexual manner did not mean she was a witch. No, she was a gun being wiped down by her gunner. That made sense, didn't it? Yup. Yeah. There wasn't any witch-like behavior here! Especially if those rescue crews were to report her ass to the Royal Research and Remittance Committee. 

Kiwa fell into his tender strokes, moaning and thrashing and so fucking horny.

Her sweet juices streamed through her thighs, reawakened by the steady stimulation. But there was something different with the liquid on RM-88. It wasn't just her essence on it but something else thicker and potent and a bit slimy. Grinded into her, the substance made her skin tingle and more sensitive to each thrust that followed.

Was that a bad or good thing, Kiwa didn't want to know.

More of that gooey substance dripped straight from the barrel, falling onto her rear with a hearty-sounding plop. It was both cool and warm. The temperature switching around when she tried to comprehend it.

If Kiwa ignored it, the substance was soothing. Not quite calming but on the verge of it. It radiated a pleasant feel that she couldn't put her finger on.

The color was- White-ish? Gray-ish? It looked like cum. Could be cum, Kiwa's mind supplied, the smart ass. But since when magically moving guns produced normal-looking cum? She wasn't sure what she expected but not-cum cum wasn't it.

As it piled on and rubbed everywhere south of her navel, the tingling turned into electrifying pulses. Her nerves were on fire. Kiwa's body arched and twitched, ass shaking as she tried not to force herself again on his barrel then and there.

Kiwa panted into her arms, trying to shut down the mewling cries bubbling from her lips. He hadn't even penetrated her yet but she was already on the verge of cumming again.

“Please. Please! Put it in me. I want it now!” She begged, face on the ground. “Please.”

The sliding between her cheeks stopped. The metal shaft gone.

Kiwa didn't lift her head, taking a second to sob into the earth. The fucking cock-tease strikes again.

“Come on, come on, don't tell me you got me all worked up to leave me hanging. You got this. I need that cock in me. Do want to hear me beg some more? Let's go. Yeah. Do you need a pep-talk. I know I'm your first pussy but you don't have to get all gun-shy on me.”

RM-88 slapped her splayed twin cheeks.

Kiwa squeaked despite herself, so close to release that her body was thrumming with want and need. She opened her mouth to snarl and the shaft, thick and stiff and glorious, slid right in.

Gushing and lightly stretched, her hole took him. Inch by inch, that steel shaft swept inside of her, thighs and hips locked in place. Silent shivers danced across her form, shoulders arched. Kiwa rasped in pleasure, her voice gone. All that came out was puffs of air. And noises. She ahhed, mmhed and bawled an assortment of frenzied shrieks.

She'd never been so full, so claimed by a single cock.

The gun vibrated louder, not only the sensation she felt, but also the sound. She could hear his pleasure of being inside her. This wasn't a one-way transaction it seemed. Every clench she made, he responded, adjusting himself inside her.

Kiwa panted, trying to work some energy into her hips. RM-88 waited, watching. His shaft continued deeper, his flaring shaft forcing her thighs to spread. Almost eagle-spread, she leaned on her arms, readying herself. Then moved back, making the first thrust.

The gun couldn't completely fit inside her. It was too big and fat towards the end for that. But he burrowed nice and deep, almost halfway in. Towards the middle of the gun's shaft, the metal was thicker and wider, a second curve and notch there for barrel replacement and other gadgets to could equip onto the Rune Matchstick model. Kiwa started slow for a while, only breathing and feeling the grand sensation of finally being full. A moment of clarity came over her.

Why the fuck was she fucking her gun?

The answer was there, somewhere on the outskirts of the mind. She knew this. Gun-fucking only happened when-

RM-88 pulled out and slammed back in. The answer to that question was never known. RM-88 thrusted inside of her, slow and heavy strokes ramming against her inner walls. Kiwa met her strokes head on, throwing her hips back into it. Together, they fucked long and hard. The stench of their odd union, rank with gun-ash, mine-earth and sweet, sweet sex, filled the air. Kiwa cackled, shamelessly delighted by it all.

There were voices elsewhere. Not her own. Some were men. Some were women.

They echoed down to her little collapsed mine-hole where she was getting fucked by a gun. Kiwa tried to think, concentrate why hearing these other people might be a bad thing but RM-88 went light, skimming along her pink hot flesh and she forgot, distracted by the battle at hand.

Kiwa wagged her hips downward, taking control of their tempo. Light strokes became brisk half-thrusts, soft puffs now heavy grunts. RM-88 re-angled himself and cheated, his mini-guns under his shaft met her ass and whaled on her vulnerable cheeks, making her spasm and skip a beat. Each slap bounced off her brown skin, the pain and pleasure blending to a point that she couldn't tell the difference.

The rim of his shaft grazed and explored every part of her pussy, leaving no bundle of nerves or hidden hot spots unclaimed or unfucked. It didn't take long for her to completely fall apart. Her pussy clenched harder, hips trembled as her orgasm approached.

How she lasted this long, Kiwa didn't know.

Pushed to the ground, Kiwa struggled to keep her climax at bay. Sweet juices and that gun-cum poured between her legs, gushing out with each thrust. It streamed down her hips, stained her knees and splatted streaks of runny off-white goo on the nearby rocks and dirt mounds. The shaft jerked inside of her, vibrating at its fastest speed. Kiwa couldn't hold back much longer either.

RM-88 went faster, pistoning inside of her. Kiwa gripped the dirt floor and threw back her head.

She cummed, gone.

Her orgasm rattled her bones as it rushed through her core and elsewhere. She shook, clenching and crying and cumming still. RM-88 made a few more jerks and went off, literally. A gun shot filled the air and a large shell flew straight through her.

But of course, Kiwa was a certified gunner. Friendly fire was not an issue.

The bullet harmlessly passed through her body, tingling as it did, to the wall and made a nice-sized bullet hole. Kiwa would have made a joke but something else fired out of the gun. From the shaft to her hole, she felt a flexing ball of goo ram itself right in.

Kiwa scrambled to her feet, letting RM-88 slide out.

The thing or creature bulged inside of her, stroking her walls in the same shallow strokes her gun loved to do. Her legs crumbled and she dropped to her knees, clutching her belly. The creature was going further still. She gyrated, trying to force the thing out.

Her body shook, the stimulation too much.

She cummed again and more of that substance squirted out of her. It looked less like cum and more like, ooze?

Kiwa stared, connecting the dots. Oh shit. Did she- Was it supposed to happen this soon? The gunner's seal appeared on her belly, a mark she knew well enough. Then her stomach decided it had enough of being flat. It grew round and pudgy on her waist. Swollen like a beach ball, it bobbed and rippled as if it was considering getting bigger.

Inside her womb, the thing pleasured her. Kiwa twitched and aimlessly thrusted, trying to push it out. “Come on out, you've had your fun.” She fell against the ground, huffing and hot. “I need a- Break. Get out. Get out now! Next time, ask first.”

The thing slowly came out, teasing her clit as it did, and reformed on the ground. Her stomach went back to flat and she had a sigh of relief.

Kiwa ignored whatever it was, choosing to pass out instead. Future Kiwa had this. Well-fucked Kiwa needed some shut-eye.

Her last thought, her only thought was the five words a gunner never wanted say.

Was that thing a slime?!


	3. Better Than a Shotgun Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her free hand, she molded its body into a cock-like shape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slime and tentacles chapter.

You know, the whole gunners and mines thing? That was bullshit. Fair weather bullshit.

Kiwa liked mines in theory.

Low ceilings. Poor visibility on both ends. General monster hostility on the whole spectrum of “I feast on human souls.” to “Ah, a human!” was low. Monsters in the mines liked to mind their own business, pun intended. They would only attack unless you were after their specific monster type. Basically, bats stuck with bats, lizards with lizards and the occasional lessor wyrm got to be the awkward guy between them.

And obviously, mines were a hotspot for freelancers seeking a easy pay-out. In Flown, the general rate going for a in-demand monster was twenty aulrians a body. A decent pay for a small job of clearing out nuisances for the miners.

But in the actual place, Kiwa couldn't call herself much a fan.

Plopping his non-existent ass on her face, the slime, the cock-teasing fuck, made itself comfy. Kiwa glared, her world now gray and blurry. Her fingers itched to strangle it. Gray and transparent, a cave slime was the sneakiest of the standard slime breeds. Unlike the others, forest slimes, plains slimes and water slimes, they changed colors, forms and densities whenever they felt like it.

Hah, you thought that was a wall. Cave slime! Thought that was your sword. Nope. Think again! Hey, was that your childhood sweetheart who left the group? Kiwa didn't want to be the bearer of bad news but-

It's been proven through research studies that slimes, or at least, cave slimes were capable of comprehending and replicating human behavior. And unfortunately, the whole slime breed had a tendency to be complete assholes.

Case in point, the fucker on top of her.

The slime wiggled and wobbled on her cheeks, swaying to the tune of mana and magic in the air. If Kiwa stretched her senses, she could hear it too. That light song carried through earth, wind and water.

A good song out of many to be dancing to, she guessed. But her face was not a chair.

Kiwa rolled her eyes and went about fixing her state of undress. On her back, she lifted up her hips as she pulled back up her mini-shorts and underwear. Her clothing was still a bit damp but fine enough to wear.

The smell was still there.

That aroma of metal, steel and her own hot sex. But the uh wet stuff, the gun-cum and her own essence was gone. Even on her thighs and legs, the white creamy mix wasn't there and she'd been stained to the bone, absolutely gushing and squirting as RM-88 went off in her.

Her memories bubbled up and her body ached in response, remembering every thrust and stroke. Phantom touches ran down her hips and bruised thighs. Kiwa shuddered despite herself. Fuck that damned cock-tease! He took his time with her, making Kiwa nice and wet before he entered her needy hole.

Kiwa's lips parted and she moaned. Completely in a daze. When and where could she get fucked like that again? A handful of the slime's blobby form slipped in her mouth and amused, she rolled it around on her tongue.

After being fucked by her own gun, sucking a slime didn't seem so bad.

The texture was both taffy-like and firm, its taste a sugary-sweet with a salty aftertaste. Kiwa leaned back her head and took more of it in, caressing the underside with her eager tongue. The slime vibrated same as it did inside RM-88's long shaft. Had to have.

Guns didn't usually vibrate, now did they?

She thought her gun liked that. Being squeezed whether it was by her thighs, hips or pussy. But oh, that was the slime. It writhed inside of her mouth, rubbing against her teeth and inner jaw. Something tapped against her tonsils and she nearly gulped. Kiwa pinched the slime in warning but the slime was too gone. It pressed and explored every nook in her mouth, uncaring.

If the slime kept its squirming up, she might actually chomp down.

Kiwa took hold of the slime with her hand and gently eased it out. It went limp in her hold, docile like a cat. Keeping her hand raised, she sat up, and with her tongue, licked it nice and slow. The slime buzzed, visibly liking that. Kiwa swept her tongue along its porous form, enjoying the sight of it writhing to her warm touch.

With her free hand, she molded its body into a cock-like shape.

Then without warning, Kiwa took the slime-cock in. Spirits, the slime loved that! It vibrated at top speeds, making even her cheeks vibrate along. Pulling it back and forth, she sucked and scraped, teeth lightly grazing its filmy skin. The tip of the slime-cock dribbled, nectar-like ooze to the back of her throat.

Kiwa hummed, swallowing what she could. The slime-cock twitched inside of her. Ready to release. Kiwa braced herself and the slime stiffened, cumming full-force.

The ooze went everywhere, exploding out of her cheeks faster than she could gulp down.

It ran onto her top, spilling into her black tub top and white modesty bandages. Kiwa's small breasts tingled, dark nipples perking in response. Falling further, the ooze painted her brown belly and waist in streaky prismatic lines.

The slime escaped her grip and reformed in the open space between her legs. Wasting no time, it cleaned her. Long thin tentacles sprouted from its form, gray and transparent as the rest of it. The tendrils wiped along her face and chin, reabsorbing the fluid there.

Kiwa left her mouth open, presenting her cum-coated lips with a smile.

A pair of tentacles brushed over her soft mouth, light pressing against it in a clear imitation of a kiss. Kiwa smiled harder. Since they've already exchanged fluids, what was a kiss between... whatever they were. Friends? Lovers? Fucking acquaintances?

After cleaning her face, the tentacles weaved into Kiwa's tub top and bandages. They swam around in her fabric, poking and prodding her flat breasts and lean stomach in a ticklish frenzy.

Stiffening, her nipples declared themselves.

They poked right through her top, twin nubs ready to be touched and played with.

The slime stopped his tendrils and vibrated quietly. Kiwa blinked, wondering why it didn't just go for them? She pressed her chest forward, baring her tiny tits to the slime.

With her finger, she lifted up the tub-top and threw it over her shoulders.

Her modesty bandages were still on. They were trouble to take off and a bitch to put back on so Kiwa left them alone. The slime's tentacles were already under them anyway. Its tentacles bulging through the gauze. A hint of her breasts were visible, two firm mounds capped with dusky-brown peaks.

“What's wrong? You can totally-” Kiwa started to say, “fuck my-”

“I've already checked the east tunnels. Hendricks, get your ass over here.” said a voice.

“Don't talk to me like you own me, man. I'm a fucking volunteer. I'll get over when I'm ready.”

“Then will you volunteer your skinny ass to the west tunnels, I'm low on hands as it is and yours looks small enough to fit in there.”

“That's what your momma said to me last night.”

There was a smack and the conversation faded away.

Kiwa considered what she was trying to say. What she was trying to do, really.

Okay so, she was horny. That was normal.

And yeah, she fucked her own gun. A little out there but do-able. Gunners and other classes of the mechanist profession would understand. Who didn't have fun on a lonely night with their big and hefty Rune Matchstick.

But a slime? A slime-slime.

Not one of those feolkin or beast people but a real deal slime. A monster.

Kiwa looked up, staring at the collapsed mine walls, dirt mounds and broken mine equipment. Somewhere distant, she heard other humans. They called out to each other and reported their findings.

People were getting rescued. What was she still doing here?

She sighed, annoyed with the obvious answer. Because she was horny, damn it. Because she was a dumbass that took a rigged job. There wasn't anything waiting for her outside. No bed. No booze. No friends. Sure, she could get up and get back to making her trade work. Be a freelancer. Hunt monsters. Live on the edge.

But why shouldn't she go and let herself get fucked silly?

Kiwa already was fucked financially.

Why not physically?

Kiwa forced herself to turn her head and check on her surroundings. She flinched, her heels kicking as she willed her legs not to run. All around her half-collapsed, half-climbable hole, the slimes were out and about. Dozens of them. Gray herds milled around, coating the nearby floor in their distinctive, prismatic ooze.

In Surfeit, every class had a perfect foe. A type of monster that would beat said human class in every clash. There was no benefit to be had in dealing with them. There was only fleeing and swearing and praying for mercy. Even royal knights could be made into bitches by lessor wyrms and drakes. Mages couldn't do shit against golems and elementals.

And for gunners, it was the most common monster of them all. The garden-variety slime.

A few of the older-looking ones, bigger than the rest, vibrated. Shook the ground to the point she felt tremors as far away she was. Their forms twisted and stretched aimlessly. They waved to each other, waved to her. Excitement in the air.

The rest focused on layering their odd pooling of fluids.

With each coat, the layer of ooze thickened. Growing more and more stable and less like liquid.

The solvent substance puffed up from the mine floor and expanded into something that resembled a bed. Circular in shape, the ooze-bed was fluffy and thick, a blend of tri-matic colors. The smallest of slimes bounced on it as the older ones danced.

Kiwa's throat went dry, mouth nearly falling open. She'd been warned about this behavior. The signs were all there. The non-hostile gathering. The particular ooze they used. Oh shit, the gun fucking.

Slimes weren't the most subtle of creatures.

Something touched her.

Kiwa flinched, frantic, before remembering the slime’s tentacles were still inside her modesty bandages. They reseeded out and returned to the slime. It wasn’t moving. It stood perfectly still, watching her. Kiwa snorted at that. Watching her. Slimes didn’t have eyes or mouths. They were manifestations of wayward magic given shape. The thought that it could stare and was using that ability to watch her was-

Gunners and slimes, one of the world's best kept secrets. It might have been the same situation for the other classes and their opposing monsters. Who knew what happened to knights after the wyrms carried them away? Or what golems did to their captured mages?

The slime knew it had her attention. Finally, it showed itself. The slime changed colors, turning into a vibrant, undeniable, gunner-class purple. In its porous form, a symbol appeared. The gunner's seal.

Kiwa bit the inside of her mouth. Fuck. Really, fuck. This slime wanted to be hers.

Back in the old days, it was said that monsters and humans once lived closer than they do now. There were greater foes to fight; insane gods, abominations from the abyss and unfathomable beasts of great power and rage. When the classes were first established, contracts with monsters were made as there were a lot less humans at that time.

Kiwa couldn’t comprehend that. A Surfeit where humans were almost wiped out by invading armies. How they survived, she didn’t know. Only ruins were left of that time and nobody cared to go near them.

Slimes, however, were perverted assholes who didn’t get the message that times had changed.

Monsters protected and trained alongside with humans. Humans fought and provided comfort to their beast.

Nowadays, doing something like that would get you labeled as a witch and an enemy of the state. To lay down with animals was to be an animal. A thing to be hunted. Then sent off to be cut apart by whichever group of scholars and professors paid the most.

Kiwa breathed slowly, trying to wrap her head around this.

Gunners, however, had different stories. It's because of them Kiwa didn't panic. Every gunner had to meet a slime sometime and if they were lucky, it wasn't the slime looking for them.

And obviously, Kiwa wasn't lucky in this case.

This was a covenant ceremony she stumbled in.

Unwittingly, Kiwa caught the eye of a slime trying to court her. Spirits, what slime wouldn't? An experienced gunner. Decent rank. Fourteen gun-craft skills mastered. And her seals tattooed into her hands and back. They were usually invisible, painted with a special ink.

Anyone could pick up a gun but one needed those seals to be a gunner.

Kiwa's skin pulsed, throbbing as it reacted to the presence of the gunner's seal. Her tattoos unfurled from where they were hidden, black inky lines ivy-vining along her arms, her neck and back. A gunner's weak points. It prickled a little, the ink just as hot as when she first received them.

She had the choice to reject the offer. Gunners always did.

Kiwa could forget the slime right now and haul her ass as fast she could up a dirt mound.

But well-

This was her slime.

Each gunner had a unique seal and ink branded into their skin. Frankly speaking, it was a rare and important occasion when a gunner met the right monster. Some of the more higher classed gun-craft skills needed a covenant contract to properly master as well.

But was she ready for it?

A monster courting could take days and afterward, she'd have to slink back to the Mechanist's Alliance, a trouble in its own right, and beseech some older gunner for some tips on how to hide her companion.

Shit, she was already making arrangements in her own mind for it. Ways to pay for her passage to the Southern Continent. How to hide the slime on the way there.

Spirits, she was-

“I'm a bit of cheapskate and trouble-prone. Been avoiding my family's guild for years. I hate guilds, you know. Irrationally. And with you around, I'll probably need to join one to cover my tracks.”

Kiwa muttered, her voice clear and crisp. It was true. Once a gunner met their slime, they wouldn’t let it go.

“There are some really bad guys who look for pairs like us.” she admitted, lips thin. “If you honestly think you can handle that, you're free to follow me. But I expected to be filled in every hole, fucked in every orifice until I can't even remember my own name before that. Sound like a deal?”

The slime jumped into her arms, vibrating all the while.

“You need a name though.” Kiwa said, holding him up to the light. Hmm, he wasn’t as clean as a normal slime. Now purple, darker globs floated inside his pudgy form. They almost looked splotchy in the sunlight. “How about Splotch? You like that Splotch the slime?”

He wigged a yes. Or wobbled an adamant no. It was hard to tell with slimes.

Kiwa glanced at the others, gauging their shapes and sizes. This was a monster courting, an orgy that would last four days and three nights. Each and every one of those slimes would have a turn with her, invoking their protection and unique monster attributes into her tattooed seals.

No gunner or other class of the mechanist profession never what happened in detail. Only that the gunner courted would be pampered and pleasured beyond their wildest dreams.

Her pussy throbbed at the thought. But some traditions still had to be observed.

The most important being... to never take part of a slime orgy without cleaning out your pockets. Unbelievable. And true to stereotype, gunners were walking fire hazards. They carried bullets, shells, raw gunpowder, elemental augments, explosives and more. Such items wouldn't do harm to slimes. They were resistant to most non-magical attacks, bullets and explosives included. Plus they loved eating gunpowder and gunpowder-related goods like candy.

No, the rule was to save the gunner from losing all of their stuff. Hah. Morons.

Kiwa placed the newly named Splotch to the side. He wiggled at her, rubbing her hip to be let into her lap. Kiwa stuck her tongue in response. She went through her mini-shorts and bandages, taking out the supplies and hidden items. Her potions, rations, extra bullets and extra-extra bullets sat together in a growing pile.

She dug into her hair and pulled out the rest. Lock-picks, small blades and her rolled up Aulra's feather. The golden feather was rumored to bring those on the brink back to life but Kiwa had never been in a situation so deadly to have to use it.

Kiwa un-clipped her mother's amulet, a well-loved keepsake, and dropped it right on top.

Splotch wiggled towards it and she gently pushed him away.

He couldn't seem to sense the hatred coming off the jewel in the center. She glanced at him, seriously classifying him as a monster. Splotch was weaker than her. If he was ranked in the same system as her, he'd be five levels below hers.

Slimes were magic given form, weren't they? How come he wasn't turning into- Kiwa sighed, banishing the darker thoughts that tried to seep in. This is a different land, a different ecosystem. Either Splotch had a resistance to sundered magic in general or was too weak to be affected by it yet.

Once her personal items were sorted and accounted for, Kiwa returned her attention to the other slimes.

They- uh- Kiwa stared in awe.

The dozens that once was around had been replaced with a sea of gray, slithering globs. In teams, they secreted along the walls and floors, coating the ground in a denser but thin layer of goo. Formerly gray walls became plush, padded. All shaded a purple periwinkle. Cracks and holes were patched over. Debry and broken things moved elsewhere.

Even the hole she looked out of to see the rest of the mine was sealed. Ooze shot over the opening in thin, spider-like threads before expanding, inflating over the gap and hiding it from site. Briefly, Kiwa caught a glimpse of how the goo looked on the outside. On one side, the same as the dirt and rock and on the other, gooey and purple.

Folks did say how slimes loved to make a breeding den just about anywhere.

Kiwa grabbed her things and stood up, waiting for the slimes to finish her part of the collapsed space. She lifted one foot. Two. And it was over. The slimes went elsewhere, still cleaning and secreting. More beds of ooze were made in the corners. These ones slight different shades than the one for her. Purple was the color of mechanist profession but each specific class had a specific tint to call their own.

Hmm, a grenadier and a glyph gear might be showing up soon.

Putting her items back down, Kiwa picked up Splotch and the tub-top she thrown away. Another tradition, come to the slimes' bedstead in the garb the courting slime approached her in.

Like it mattered much. She would be naked in the end.

Letting Splotch go, Kiwa climbed into the center of the ooze-bed. The cushion-like surface was springy, buoyant under her hands. Reaching the center, Kiwa laid on her back. The ooze-bed molded around her body, letting her sink in a few inches. Holds from inside of the bed wrapped around her wrists, locking her in place.

Her legs weren't ignored. Tendrils wrapped around her boots and pulled them off. Another set of holds went around her ankles.

Kiwa experimented, moving her legs and opening her hips. She could move freely as long as she didn't try to get up. Once she did, the holds snapped back into place. Kiwa tried her arms. Nothing could be done with them. Now aware of her restraints, Kiwa relaxed. She took in a deep breath and sighed out slowly. Monster courting. How did her life lead to this?

“Whenever you're ready, Splotch.”

Splotch ran between her legs and rubbed up against the seat of her shorts. Kiwa twitched, feeling the soft warmth emanating from her form. She pushed into him, desperate for more of that soothing heat.

Spirits, it wasn't enough.

Kiwa cocked her legs further, baring herself freely. Splotch pressed harder into her shorts, the heat reaching her privates and more. Her clit woke, pressing hard against the front of her thong. Kiwa loved the sensation. She rocked her hips into it.

In no time at all, his slime dissolved the black fabric.

Stitch by stitch, her mini-shorts melted into stew. The liquid was drunk by the ooze-bed, absorbed. Her thong didn't last any longer. It tricked down her pussy mound, the wetness odd and exciting to feel. Splotch crept higher, sliding up and over her mid-section. Any fabric under him liquefied, spilling down her flat waist and thighs.

What remained of her tube-top and wrappings fell apart, falling on either side of her body.

Just like before, his goo made her skin tingle and sweat. Being rubbed in everywhere, Kiwa panted and groaned. Her legs flapped open and close. Something needed to be put inside. Her nerves sparked under her skin, igniting in lust and thrill. She fought against her restraints, unwilling to be still. Kiwa arched, trying to make Splotch slide right back between her legs.

He clung to her small breasts, enduring her tossing and shaking. The holds on her tightened. Kiwa was fastened to the bed, all movement stopped. She moaned at that, even more aroused.

Kiwa fought harder, unwilling to give in.

He sprouted a purple tentacle. It ran along her waist and brushed against her pussy lips. Kiwa lifted her hips into it, trying to tempt it in. The tentacle touched her lightly, playing with her clit and dripping hole.

Its tip teased her entrance, sliding in only a inch and nothing more. The fatter end of the tentacle tapped her clit, the sensation light and fast. A second tentacle emerged. It passed the first and went to her asshole, smearing cool ooze against her tight pucker.

Kiwa shivered, mouth falling open. Her hips jerked, an orgasm incoming. She bit her lip, refusing to fall to pieces so early. The second tentacle pushed its tip into her ass, squirting more of that ooze inside. Instead of only coating her insides, she felt the ooze move within. The substance kneaded her ring of muscles, loosening it.

She gasped, throwing her hips as back as she could. Trying to get both tentacles in.

They dodged her, the bastards.

Splotch slinked around her breasts, squeezing them and the supple skin they sat on. Kiwa threw back her head, frantic to have her way. Come on, Splotch. Fuck her. Fuck her now! Her brown nipples were twisted and pinched, coaxing them into hardness. Once perked, he yanked and slapped them. The flesh swelling and aching under a pleasurable pain. Kiwa whimpered, feeling a sharp twinge in her chest. She looked down and went wide-eyed at what she saw.

Her breasts were growing, the skin rippling and expanding under Splotch’s care. The stimulation was too much. Kiwa cried out, jerking and shaking. She cummed then and there. Her tiny mounds inflated into massive tits, the size almost ridiculous.They were twice the size of her head and weighed like two RM-88s.

Kiwa lost her breath, wheezing and choking as her new breasts rested against her. Swollen and sloshing and new thick nipples tipped with white liquid. Those twin mountains clapped against each other, large nubs drizzling milk from the movement. It wasn’t even the size that had her gasping but the weight.

Her new breasts were sore, uncomfortably full.

Splotch noticed her discomfort.

He grew another pair of tentacles and pressed her overwhelming breasts together. Squished between them, Splotch moved. Kiwa snickered at the slight, him surrounded by walls of pillowy flesh. She had some degree of control over them, her new breasts, and crushed him, feeling him vibrate all the while.

Splotch struggled to escape but she kept him right there, writhing for her pleasure.

With her slime more or less detained, Kiwa impaled herself into the tentacles. He only had himself to blame, being a cock-tease. Foreplay was fun and all but she got off on being stuck straight through like a pig on a pike. And in sex, nine times out of ten, Kiwa was the fucker, not the fuckee.

Slick in both holes, the tentacles slid in without trouble. One in her pussy and the other in her ass, she was soundly stuffed. Pushing down on her ankles for support, she rocked into them. Kiwa howled, her screams loud and shameless. She whipped back and forth, directing the tentacles inside. Her inner walls clutched and clinched, nerves alight and bliss-filled.

So close.

Kiwa drooled, her tempo now wild and clumsy.

So fucking close.

Then Splotch squeezed, forcing the milk out. Kiwa’s voice broke, sex slurred shouts now gasping gutter breaths. Her nipples released, shooting jets of white creamy milk into the air. The slimes gathered around vibrated, leaping and jumping to collect it. Splotch wrapped around her mounds, milking her for every drop. The white fluid overflowed, raining on everything nearby.

Once she was empty, those tentacles lined up to her expanded breasts and went in, penetrating her nipples. Kiwa writhed, her pleasure on a different plane. Another tentacle nudged her lips, wanting in. She opened her mouth sucking on the thickness. With Kiwa’s lips muffled, she writhed in complete silence.

Splotch fucked her in every hole; her pussy, her ass, her mouth and her nipples. Kiwa limply accepted his thrusts, savoring the relentless pleasure pounded into her body. She cummed again and again, orgasms brief and brisk.

The tentacles inside jerked and swiveled. Right before they squirted, painting her inner walls in wonderful warm white. Kiwa's belly expanded, rising from her mid-section and lifting up even her impressive tits. Her breasts rested on her risen stomach, nipples gushing out that gooey cum.

Splotch wiggled off her and the others slimes clustered onto her exhausted body.

What happened next was a blur of sensations and images.

They squeezed into her holes, pressing and rubbing and squirting more goo. The smaller ones seized her breasts, fondling her nipples and encouraging more milk to come out. The bigger ones thrusted into her, slime-cocks shooting small eggs into her womb. Instinctively, her hips met each thrust and her pussy allowed each egg through. Each egg brushing up against her wall and making her legs quake and kick.

At some point, she blackened out in unadulterated bliss.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Kiwa woke up swollen and pregnant.

Successfully impregnated, the gunner was allowed off the ooze-bed and spirits, she needed the walk. Slimes clung to her breasts, sucking on her nipples. They were like leeches, blowing up as they were filled with her creamy goodness. The bigger ones followed, rubbing their heads up against her ass and thighs. She ignored them, not ready just yet to be fucked into tomorrow and knowing them, that's exactly what they'd do.

Her breasts calmed down from yesterday. About three sizes so. Still not to their normal size, they swung and slapped as she walked. Splotch sat on them, guarding his space between her mounds. If any slime made even a hint of wanting to sit there, he lunged, attacking until they gave up or fell off.

The eggs jostled in her and she rubbed her belly, willing them peace. Slime eggs took less than twelve hours to mature once placed in a host and Kiwa was looking forward to motherhood. Then fucking. Then motherhood again. But she wondered if she was the only one in good spirits.

With her was two other people, freshly fucked and pregnant.

One of them stared at her and opened their mouth, “You wanna hear how I got here?”

The end.


End file.
